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song of the week.
woke up in america.
sat behind an old irish couple on my last leg from dublin who didnt take a nap or watch a single movie for seven hours, spent the entire time cracking eachother up and cursing loudly every time the plane hit turbulence. there was a lot of lard aboff ! and fackn hayl wayre all gunna die!
the man turned to the woman during one particularly rocky period and said, will ya marry me, Gloria? and she hit him over the head with her inflight magazine and said iym allready married to ya, Seamus! and he said, ah right, well, we can go down then, i’ve done a decent thing with me life. and i went from laughing to crying behind them.
its a rainy march morning, and i’m a little scared to face the city, but what i see from my dads apartment window is that everything is clean and organized and tall and shiny and fast.
